Coping Skills
by Electric Furret
Summary: Inspector Paul Vergier deals with loss.


_Breathe, Paul. You have to breathe._ Vergier took in a few shaky gasps as he slowly sat up from the bed, dizzy and disoriented as he roughly groped for the lamp on the table nearby. This dream had been so much worse than the ones before it. All the blood and the panic, all over again, but this time-

_"It's all your fault, Paul."_

No, don't think about it. He'd already succumbed once to his weakness a few days ago, shaking and gasping and alone…he refused to do it again. Vergier flicked on the light and practically threw himself out of bed, sliding over the undisturbed side of the bed. The inspector's legs barely supported him as they shook, but he forced himself to walk to the bathroom.

It had been a week now, Vergier reminded himself. The funeral had already been a week. Life moved on, with or without her.

She was gone.

Once he made it to the bathroom he flicked on the light in there too, angrily squinting as his eyes adjusted much slower than he moved. The young inspector fumbled with the faucet, grunting as the water turned on at last, and reality slowly returned with each splash of water on his face. Finally he felt a little more grounded, panting slightly as he looked back to his ragged reflection. Hair messy, eyes bloodshot, his whole body dragging. Pitiful. How silly he must have looked dashing out of bed like that.

With a deep breath he ran a hand through his hair and stepped back. He found himself gently sliding to the floor and pulling his knees to his chest, still breathing hard. He couldn't look at himself, that reflection wasn't him. It clearly showed his piling stress, his sleep deprivation, his weakness. Vergier hated feeling like this. She was dead. He could admit it. Yet he couldn't even consider moving on, having to live the rest of his life without her, taking care of Charlotte without her…

God, Charlie. The one saving grace in the situation was that she didn't understand death at the tender age of six. She wasn't too upset about it yet, the little girl only understood that her mommy left and wasn't coming back. Charlotte needed better than this kind of life, and he knew it. What kind of father was he? Not the one Charlotte deserved, he was just too unfit to take care of her. He loved Charlotte, Vergier loved Charlotte as much as he loved Emma, and it was selfish of him to even think of himself when Charlotte was going to grow up with him as her only parent. He could never replace Emma. No one ever could.

For the first time in the inspector's life, he wondered if he deserved to exist at all. It felt pointless, living a life that should have been Emma's, too, inadequately raising their only daughter as a useless now-single father. Briefly he thought about the gun sitting on his bedside table, and he immediately wished he hadn't thought of that, because it made him start to wonder maybe if he should just- just-

"Papa?"

Vergier gasped and tore his gaze off the floor and whipped his head around the source of the small voice. There Charlotte stood, clutching her favorite plushie. Emma made it for her as a baby.

"What…what is it?" He must have accidentally glared at her as she shrunk back a little. Great. Vergier forced his expression to soften.

"Uhm…uhm….I-I heard a noise…I guess it was just you…" Charlie stared at the floor then back to him.

"Oh…I am…sorry. Please, go back to sleep." Vergier weakly tried to shoo her away, but she only took another step forward.

"Papa? But…papa…you're crying…"

Was he? Absently he touched his face and started at the wetness there. Merde. Now Charlotte had seen him.

"A-ah, m-mon lapin- e-everything's okay just…g-go back to bed." He was supposed to be the strong one here! And yet, Charlotte stepped forward again.

"Everything's not okay if you're crying…"

"Ch-Charlotte, please…I don't want you to see me like this right now…you don't understand." Charlie didn't like this response as he averted his face. Of course, because what hope was there for her if-

"Why not? Momma says everyone feels sad and cries sometimes…don't you remember?" He blankly nodded a little. "Yeah…I just don't like it 'cause, 'cause you've been sad a lot…" Charlotte raised a chubby hand and gently wiped at his face like her mother had done to her and awkwardly tried to hug him from the side. "I want you to feel better…"

Vergier suddenly grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. He felt ashamed of himself as he started to weep, holding Charlotte tightly against his chest. She began to cry a little with him then, distraught at the confusing situation but determined to help fix it. It thankfully took little time for him to settle down again, overwhelming emotions passing as quickly as they came.

He felt empty and exhausted.

"Papa…?" His daughter's tiny voice finally broke the silence.

"Oui?" He loosened his grip to look down at her.

"Uhm…y…you're not going to go away too…l-like momma did…are you?" The question stunned him into silence. "I-I hope that means you're not gonna…"

"…Charlotte…." He held her round face in his large hands, a shaky, sincere smile on his face. "Sweet Charlotte, please don't cry. I'd never dream of it."

"I don't want you to go…" Satisfied by this answer, Charlotte nuzzled into his chest.

They sat there quietly for several minutes, calming down until Vergier was sure Charlotte fell asleep. Then, slowly, he picked himself up off the floor and headed into his bedroom with Charlotte in his arms. He felt things would be a little better if she stayed with him. Just for tonight. The young inspector gently unmade the opposite side of the bed and laid his daughter down in it, sighing. What an idiot he was, Vergier thought as he crawled into bed next to his daughter.

"I love you, Charlotte…" He whispered to the sleeping little girl as he kissed her cheek, tears threatening to fall again.

Just thinking about how selfish he had been made him hate himself all the more. They already saved Charlotte from a life like that once, and he was about to let her return to that? No. He had a duty to Emma. To his Charlie. Vergier might never recover, not for a long time, but he had a reason to survive. To try. Even if-

"Papa…" Charlotte called again, startling him out of his thoughts. He thought she was asleep. His daughter pulled herself forward and gently kissed him on the forehead. "I love you too, Papa." She said in the tiniest whisper, then curled up contentedly against his chest.

Tomorrow, Paul Vergier would become a new man.


End file.
